The final note of "Frequency" hadn't even finished vibrating through the club's subwoofers before the atmosphere shifted from "concert" to "riot". The sea of phones in the front row surged forward, and a few fans actually managed to hoist themselves onto the edge of the stage, hands outstretched toward the duo.
"Move! Now!" Jun-seo hissed into my ear, his "Jay" persona cracking under the weight of genuine panic.
He didn't wait for a reply.
He grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the narrow, graffiti-stained door behind the drum riser.
We burst through, the heavy soundproof door slamming shut and cutting the roar of the crowd to a dull, rhythmic thud. We scrambled down a flight of concrete stairs, out through a kitchen smelling of old grease, and finally into the biting chill of a narrow Hongdae alleyway.
The adrenaline, which had been keeping my sore muscles numb, began to evaporate, replaced by the sharp sting of the night air. Jun-seo was leaning against a brick wall, his chest heaving, ripping the black mask from his face.
"Are you insane?" he whispered, his eyes wide and frantic. "What were you waiting for? To be drowned in crowd?"
I let out a shaky, exhilarated laugh.
My "Comma" hair was a damp, sweat-soaked disaster.
"Relax, Jay."
I leaned in, a mischievous glint in my eyes.
"Besides, why are you so worried? Wait a minute... You are..."
Jun-seo stared at me, his mouth hanging open.
"Oh, nothing, I just mistook you for someone," I deadpanned, though my heart was still hammering a 160-BPM rhythm.
"You... you're joking at a time like this?"
"It's a cultural trait. You should add it to your history notes."
A sleek, black transport van screeched to a halt at the end of the alley. The sliding door flew open, and we piled in before the engine had even settled.
"Go! Go!" the fox-masked bassist—whose name I still didn't officially know—shouted at the driver.
Jun-seo collapsed into the leather seat, burying his face in his hands.
"Take us to the Gol—" He caught himself, clearing his throat violently. "I mean... drop us off near the transit hub. We'll take a taxi from there."
"Are you kidding?" the drummer yelled, slamming his sticks against the floor of the van in excitement. "Jay, that was incredible! That song... what was it?"
Jay looked at me.
"That was... 'Frequency'?"
I nodded:
"You must have heard it at Autumn Festival in Kirin. It's an original," I said, leaning back into the plush interior. "Glad you liked it."
"Liked it? It was ecstatic!" the bassist chimed in, leaning over the seat to look at me. "Who are you, man? What is the group you are in again?"
"We're H-Wnot," I replied.
"Join us," the drummer said, half-serious. "Seriously. With Jay's vocals and your energy? We'd own the Hongdae circuit in a month."
"I have a scholarship to maintain," I joked. "And a very strict host mother."
As we wove through the neon-drenched streets, I decided to test the waters.
"So, tell me. What's the word on this 'Fred' guy everyone is obsessed with? Is he really that mysterious?"
The bandmates exchanged a look.
"All anyone knows is the ponytail and the jacket," the bassist said. "Rumor is he studies at Hanyeong. Some genius guitarist who's too cool for the idol system." He paused, looking at me. "Sorry, man. I know the rivalry is a big deal for you guys."
I chuckled, thinking of the red blazer I'd worn earlier.
"It's fine. Rivalries are just fuel for the stage."
The manager, a sharp-featured man who hadn't taken his eyes off the road, finally spoke.
"The company is actually interested. They want to scout this Fred. The plan was to invite him to be a lead singer alongside Jay—a dual-frontman concept. But the guy is a ghost. We've sent people to Hanyeong, checked the indie boards... nothing. It's like he doesn't exist in this dimension."
I rubbed my chin, feeling the youngster stubble I'd forgotten to shave. A slow, ominous smile curved across my face.
"A ghost, huh?" I mused, looking out at the glittering Seoul skyline. "You know... I might actually be able to help you find him."
The van went silent.
Jun-seo snapped his head toward me, his eyes screaming in confusion, while the manager and the bandmates just stared at me in pure, confused silence.
"You?" the manager asked, raising an eyebrow in the rearview mirror. "How would a Kirin exchange student find a Hanyeong phantom?"
"I have my ways," I said, my voice dropping to that deep register. "But it might cost you."